


Rain

by Trenchcoatangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Affairs, Alcoholism, Alternate universe-1960s, Angst, Country Boys, Destiel - Freeform, Drug Abuse, Fluff, Forgivness, Friends to Lovers, Grief, Hate Crime, Homophobia, Incest, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mentions of child sexual assualt, Moving On, Neglect, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape, Rape Victims, Sexual Content, Soldier Castiel, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Vietnam War, Violence, emotional distress, k - Freeform, pinning, preacher John, psychiatric hospital, ranchers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trenchcoatangels/pseuds/Trenchcoatangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1963, two young men, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak, are hired for the summer to work as farm hands on a seasonal ranch in Texas. Unexpectedly, they form an intense relationship, but have to part ways at the end of the summer. Vowing to never truly let go, and to always return to one another, their bond is put to the test when Castiel is drafted for the Vietnam war, and Dean is pressured into marriage by his homophobic father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

Castiel Novak groans, his head pulsing and throbbing, an acidic bile rising in his throat. His shoulders surge forward as he dry heaves once again,having caught the scent of vomit from the pool he'd been lying in, nothing left in his stomach to come up though. Empty beer bottles and broken pieces of a chardonnay bottle litter the floor of his trailer. The typewriter he'd been working on still sat in the corner, neglected and forlorn. Shaking, he lifted himself from the floor, wiping his mouth and wincing at the pain in his head. He's a mess. He's been a mess for a long while.

The phone rings, he shuts his eyes, it hurts his head even more as he makes way over to the landline. He glowers angrily. 

"What." He snaps. 

"Cas?" Cas instantly regrets the harshness in his voice as he recognizes the caller. Sam Winchester, Dean's younger brother. He clears his throat, trying to stop the burning in his cheeks. 

"Sam? Hey, how've you been?"

"I'm good. I'm good. Jess just had the baby. It's a girl." Cas nods, a smile on his face. 

"Congratulations. You must be so proud." Cas grabbed the dip from the counter and put some in his cheek, grabbing an empty beer bottle to spit into. 

"I am....I uh, I actually had a reason for calling."

"Yeah?"

"I had a dream about Dean." Cas's blood runs cold. He clenched the phone, his knuckles turning white, "Cas?" Sam asks as the silence stretches. 

"Oh hum? I'm still here. You did?"

"Yeah...I was at a rodeo and he came to watch. Had the biggest smile on his face." Cas can see it in his head, Dean grinning, broad muscles tucked into a tight black shirt, jeans greasy and dirty from working on cars all day. But that easy going smile still on his face. "He gave me a huge hug and told me he was proud of me...then he asked about you." Cas's breath hitches. 

"He did?"

"Yeah. I told him you weren't doing too good. And that you missed him a lot, that you were trying to write down your story." Cas's eyes dart to the typewriter, lingering there as if in a trance. 

"What'd he say?" Cas asks breathless. 

"He just hugged me again and said 'Don't worry. I got him.' I woke up after that." Cas closes his eyes. He can feel Dean, there in the room, soothing the aches in his body, on his heart. Cas smiles and spits in the bottle. 

"I think it's time I wrote that book." Cas answers. Sam grunts in agreement. 

"He would want you too."

"Thank you Sam."

"I'll call you later." Cas hangs up the phone, a silly little smile on his face, hangover forgotten. He walks to the typewriter, running his fingers over the keys gently. 

In a ten year period there's so many emotions, so many things that can go through your brain, through your heart. He and Dean may not have had a lifetime together but it felt like that. Cas sits down awkwardly. He has the words in his mind and on his heart, he knows what he wants to say but he can't put it in words. He doesn't think he knows how....

~0~0~

Dean Winchester grew up on Ecluid Street. His daddy was a baptist preacher that taught damnation, fire and brimstone and the wrath of Heaven. Dean's mama had died giving birth to Dean's younger brother Sam. Their father never said it, but both Sam and Dean knew that their Daddy blamed Sam for her death. He feigned affection in front of others but became and unmovable wall when they were alone. 

Dean was a dropout, school had never really held his interest, he'd rather be working on cars in his Uncle Bobby's garage, much to his father's dismay. At twenty two years old Dean was a good looking man, blonde hair, green eyes, muscles that bulged out of his black shirts, comb in his back pocket, boots on his feet and blue jeans on his hips. He looked like a city slicker but he could get just as down and dirty as an old redneck in town. The girls were all fond of him and he took a different one home every weekend. His father highly disapproved.

Castiel Novak grew up on the rough side of Lebanon street. His daddy died in WWII, he and his brothers and sister were raised by their mother and Aunt in a two bedroom apartment above his mother's grocery store. Castiel was the youngest of the bunch, fresh eighteen. 

He graduated from high school, but refused college, opting instead to support his mother and Aunt until he got married. If anyone would have him, Castiel was dorky, glasses and button down shirts, tucked into blue jeans and scuffed hand me down boots. He was strong, built and tan, but no one ever paid attention to that. He was resigned to a life of invisibility, with only the faint hope that one day someone would see him for who he really was. 

Though they lived in the same town the two had never met. Not until the summer of 1963, when old man Fergus Crowley was looking for two farm hands to help him. He needed two able bodied young men, willing to stay on his ranch and work from dawn till dusk that summer, while he took care of some 'private matters' out in Indiana. 

"It's good money Dean. You want to send Sammy off to college, what you make here and what your daddy makes preachin ain't gonna cut it. The work is hard but you shouldn't be a stranger to hard work. I'd take the offer if I were you." Dean but into his egg salad sandwich and leaned back against the car he'd been fixing, Bobby Singer, his boss and close family friend, squatted beside him, sweat beading his forehead and sliding down to disappear into his beard. 

"Yeah but I could put in a few extra hours here. I don't wanna work on no ranch." Bobby shook his head. "Besides you need the help."

"I got all the help I need around here Dean. I think it'd be a good thing for you to go. Get some distance from your daddy, slow down a little bit. You know that Doris girl's goin round sayin you knocked her up. I think you should lay low for a while." Dean smirked. 

"So that's what this is about. Some dumb broad who's mad at me so she's lyin?" He scoffed. "Dad already ringed me for that shit alright, I don't need advice from you."

"Then for Sam." Dean stilled, the sand which just brushing his lips, his eyes darted to Bobby, the older man suddenly looked wiser, older than his fifty two years and very worried. "Sam's worried about you Dean. He looks up to you. If you won't go and take a break for your sake or mine, so it for the kid. He loves the hell out of you." Dean swallowed hard. 

"He told you didn't he?" Bobby nodded and Dean averted his gaze. 

It'd started as an argument. Dean had been out with a girl and missed Sunday service. When his father came home he ripped into Dean. Yelling out about sin and abominations. Dean had yelled back, rebelling against everything he'd ever known. Sam sat at the kitchen table, too terrified to move or think. It was the first time John had ever put his hands on either of them, he punched Dean in the face, beating and hitting him until he was nearly unconscious, then he took the belt to Sam. When Sam asked why, John said it was because he had just sat there. Dean and Sam slept in the same bed that night. It'd been the first time they'd done that in years. The abuse continued daily from there. 

"Sam's scared Dean. He's terrified and this job could help you get away. You go to the ranch and you work your butt off you hear. Save your money and when you come home go off and buy a place of your own and take Sam with you. John won't fight, he hates to make a scene because it reflects badly on his abilities as a preacher. But you need to do this. Your daddy's gonna kill you if you don't. You'll both end up dead." Tears stung at the back of Dean's eyes. He fought against them hard, trying not to cry, it was too unmanly. So instead he nodded and reached out, allowing his uncle to hug him tightly. Bobby clapped Dean on the back and chuckled. 

"Come on princess. Let's see what we can do about that engine."

~0~0~

"I don't know if i like the sound of that Castiel." Amelia Novak stood over her son as he sat at the kitchen table peeling potatoes for dinner. The young man shrugged his shoulders and when he spoke his voice was deep, low and definitely didn't fit his looks. 

"We need the money mom...and if i get drafted there's a good chance they'll send me to Nam. I need to make sure you're going to be okay." Amelia tsked and sat down, taking her son's hand in her own. His were large and cold, always so cold. 

"You won't go. They won't take my baby boy from me," she kissed his forehead. It was a scary thing, something all mothers across the country were afraid of. Their sons were dying while they sat by helpless to save them. 

"Don't say that Amelia, because then they will call them," Castiel's Aunt Naomi said matter of factly as she came into the dinning room from the kitchen. Amelia sucked in a breath and glared at her sister. Naomi shrugged. "What? It's true." 

"They won't take him. He's my youngest. My last. I won't let them-" Castiel placed a hand on his mother's shoulder, trying to calm her, he could tell she was close to flying into one of her fits. He hated when she did that. It used to scare him. 

"It's just a precaution mom. Im sure im safe." He kissed her cheek and returned to his work diligently. His Aunt Naomi sat across the table from him, she lit a cigarette. 

"Mrs. Fitzgerald's son is dead. Shot em right between the eyes-"

"Shut up." Castiel snapped, glaring at his aunt. She snickered. 

"So serious all the time Cassy. You need to lighten up." Castiel felt his body tense under her gaze. He recognized the glint in her eye and fear crept up his spine. His mother sat obviously glaring at her sister. 

"Stop it Naomi. It's not fair of you to pick fin." She shrugged and returned to her cigarette. Amelia turned to Castiel. "I suppose a mother had to know when to let her son go anyway. Just be safe and let me know when you're moving in down there." She kissed Castiel gently and ruffled his hair. "My good son." He smiled, relief flooding him. It'd be a good thing for sure. His aunt would be no where near him. 

It started when he was little. She came into his room to 'tuck him in properly' and threatened to send him away if he told his mother. For years his aunt cornered him, searching for ways and reasons to stay home alone with him. For years Castiel cried himself to sleep, dreaming of escape. 

As he packed his bags he felt a change in the air. This was a new start. He would go to the ranch and work hard, toning his body and getting into shape. And when his aunt came at him again he'd put her in her place.


End file.
